Stan's Favourite Game
by youbstrds
Summary: Stan flirts with every boy except the one he really wants. But what does Kyle want? Stan/Kyle


Adolescence was supposed to be a turbulent time. Teenagers were supposed to do audacious, ridiculous things just because. It was a fact of life, and one that South Park was more than happy to oblige. All of Stan's friends were changing, all of them were being stupid, all of them were growing up. All bar Kyle, at least, who had the same sort of desires, but refused to indulge them.

Take Kenny, whose filthy mind and intensive study of everything carnal had reaped rewards in his adolescent years. He had a reputation amongst the girls for being inordinately talented and as a result had known most of the girls in their year. Sometimes he'd even have more than one a time. Kenny laughed as he was told that he would rot in hell for caving to his lusts. He would claim that heaven owed him one before sauntering off for another tryst. Kyle was virginal. He had his reasons, and they were comprehensible, even if not entirely convincing.

Cartman lacked Kenny's skills, confidence and physique. He turned his lusts to violence and oppression. He could start hate groups with disturbing ease. It was only through luck, Cartman's tendency to overlook vital details and his short attention span that his movements were not widespread. Stan feared the day that Cartman would realise the extent of his powers and truly put them into action.

Token had wanted to overthrow his wimpy image. He now could be found imprinting a vision of strength in the minds of others by punching it through their faces. Tweek stayed up all night with his paints and created images of pain and violation that burnt into the mind. Craig had his moped and used it to spread offence in larger circles than ever before. In general, the South Park boys fell to personal vices and shared in the corruptions of lust and desire. Even Butters had admitted to public misdemeanors. Usually these were a result of being egged on by others, but they misdemeanors nevertheless.

And Stan took up his own game. He eschewed the girls and moved onto the boys. His formal coming out had not happened yet, but rumours were flying and he suspected confirming them was rapidly becoming unnecessary. On average, Stan straddled three boys a day, stole one kiss a week, and smacked more asses in a month than the number of packets of cheesy-poofs that Cartman ate in a year. Each act was described as "gay chicken", but since no one actually agreed to play the game, it was more like socially tolerated sexual harassment. Stan had groped every boy in his class, regardless of orientation or availability. He even flirted with Cartman. It was this complete absence of standards which validated his actions: it was nothing personal, just a joke, right? And so Stan could go on winking, groping, kissing with little difficulty.

The real hardship came with resisting his almost insurmountable desire to try seduce Kyle. He had flirted with him, naturally, but he could count the times he had done that on one hand. His flirtations with Kyle were fleeting kisses, cheeky winks and one gentle tap on the ass. He couldn't exclude him without damaging his own image, but he similarly knew that he couldn't approach him properly. He wouldn't be able to take hold of him and then just let go. Kyle was how Stan had realised his own sexuality. And Kyle had never responded to his invitations. No response at all. Blank. Like he might as well have been asleep. It was fucking frustrating. He wished he could just like Kyle platonically, but that was going to happen the same day Cartman won the Nobel Peace Prize.

As far as Stan was concerned, in looks, Kyle was nothing short of an Adonis sent to Earth to tempt the mortals. He was the snake of the new millennium. He was tall, lithe, his body sculpted by either angels or demons, depending on your perspective, but certainly not by mere humans. His face ought to be painted by a master and shown to the ages. Those high cheekbones, their fragility contrasted by Kyle's strong nose, eyes naturally framed by long, dark eyelashes, that mouth that Stan could not describe in words or thought, only knowing that he needed to kiss them – that face deserved more than amateur photographs posted to a select few on a stupid social networking site. His intense beauty just made his virginity more perplexing – what snake would hold out such an awesome apple and deny everyone a bite? If it had just been him who had such an appreciation for Kyle, Stan would have understood it better, but he had proof he was not alone. Kyle had a fanclub on the internet, composed of both boys and girls from his school, solely for the appreciation of his ass. Stan was not a member. Kenny was, but he claimed his involvement was purely ironic. Stan had watched Kenny very carefully after that. He still wasn't sure he believed him, even going so far as to read all of Kyle's many Valentine's Day cards to check for Kenny's handwriting. But Kyle never took up any of his offers, both from boys and girls. Maybe it was how Hell tormented the living.

Stan mused more on the situation as he ruffled his hair before the mirror. Could Kyle actually be asexual? It would be a cruel, cruel joke if he was, but it would explain much. He made a mental note to ask Kyle the next time they had some time together. Tonight wouldn't be the right time for it: tonight was a major party at Token's. Fighting and fucking were not appropriate backdrops for intimate discussion. He smiled wryly to himself at the thought of intimacy with Kyle. If only a certain kind wasn't so elusive.

Stan jumped as his mobile phone rang. He answered by flicking the machine open before checking who it was that was ringing. Warmth spread through his body from his heart onwards at the sound of Kyle's voice.

"Hey, dude," said Kyle. "You still off to Token's?"

"Yeah, about to set off now. Want me to grab you on the way?"

"That'd be cool. Think I should bring my football gear in case we get a riot like last time?" Stan was privately unimpressed by the thought of Kyle layering up more than necessary.

"We'll be fine, dude. See you."

"See you." Stan hung up and started the hunt for keys, shoes and wallet. One day his room would be something that didn't resemble a bomb site, but until that far off day he would always spend the last ten minutes before leaving the house combing his room for vital belongings.

He reached Kyle's a little later than he'd intended, but it was just as well since Kyle was undergoing the same pre-leaving ritual as he had just endured. Together they located Kyle's belongings and stepped out into the frosty South Park night air. The party was well under way when they arrived; Tweek was passed out by a staircase and Butters was dancing on a table. Craig already was sporting a black eye.

"Eventful night," said Kyle, making a beeline for the booze. Stan followed, taking care to watch what he stepped on. "I wonder what else is going to happen before the police come."

"Knife fight?" Kyle shook his head and nodded towards a darkened corner. Kenny was managing to make out successfully with two girls at once, and another was stumbling over in that vague direction with her equally inebriated boyfriend.

"My money's on orgy."

"Hey, Kyle!" They turned to see Cartman lumbering towards them. His shirt, unbuttoned to reveal skin that they had no interest in seeing, was already stained with an interesting combination of colours. "Nice to see you could stop counting your gold to come here."

"Nice to see you tearing yourself away from the chicken wings, lardbutt," said Kyle.

"Nice to see you out here, where there are no pillows to bite!"

"Nice to see you still able to walk. I thought your legs would have given way under the weight by now." Stan raised the sound on the stereo next to them, hoping that the increasing noise would drown out their argument and prevent it escalating.

"Nice to see you not posing for gay Jew porn monthly!" Cartman screamed. Stan sighed. It had been a good tactic, but there was no stopping some things. He gulped down the acidic slops that burned on the way down his throat. If only Token was less of a pussy and would bring out his parents' spirit collection. He hoped he didn't get drunk enough to say that to Token's face; he had no interest in copying Craig's new look.

"Nice to see you not reading it!"

"Kyle-" Stan tried to butt in, but Cartman drowned him out as usual.

"Nice to see you not spying on me jacking off!"

"Nice to see you not getting off whilst imagining me watching you!" Stan returned to the beer. He needed a new glass already. Literally, he needed a new glass, since the one he had had slipped from his hand and rolled under a table. At least it hadn't broken. He got himself another drink and watched Kyle punch Cartman on the nose.

"Hey, Stan." Stan turned to see the owner of the unfamiliar voice. It was Butter's old friend, the one who had dressed up in the lame little costumes with him. His name...his name...Stan remembered it began with a 'd'.

"Hi, Danny." He was a redhead. Stan gulped down his drink. A frizzy haired redhead. Here was a golden opportunity.

"Dougie," Dougie corrected him. Stan put his arm around his shoulders.

"Dougie, sorry. Dude, you are looking fucking delicious tonight."

"I am?" Dougie pushed his glasses further up his nose and peered up at Stan.

"Yeah, damn straight you are." Stan licked his lips and winked at him. "Want another drink? I'm getting one now."

"Sure."

Somehow, he convinced Dougie to go upstairs with him. Fortunately, Dougie agreed it would be good to sit down on a bed with Stan. Amazingly, Dougie didn't resist when Stan kissed him ferociously. Miraculously, Dougie was in favour of Stan's idea to start getting undressed. Stan kissed a line from Dougie's neck to the waistband of his trousers. His fingers began unlocking the buckle. His head was fuzzy and vague, but he burned with desire. From here, the blurry frizz of red hair was enough to let him pretend this was Kyle.

"Stan." Now he could even imagine Dougie sounding like Kyle. His imagination was amazing.

"Kyle," he replied, without thinking. He looked up, horrified, but Dougie seemed unfazed. He was, however, not looking down at Stan, but to the side of the room. Stan had completely failed to notice the door opening.

"Stan." Stan followed Dougie's gaze.

"Kyle!" He threw himself at the figure standing in the doorway, who was already holding his shirt. Kyle caught him before he collapsed at his side. "Kyyyyle. What're you doing...?"

"Taking you home."

"Wait-" Dougie protested, but Kyle was already heaving Stan onto his shoulder and shutting the door. Kyle got Stan dressed, down the steps, out of the house and into the streets in what felt like seconds to Stan. Everything seemed to be slipping past him.

"Where're we going?"

"My house."

"Why?"

"You're too drunk to go home."

"'Kay."

And now they were in Kyle's house, in Kyle's room, in Kyle's bed. Stan snuggled down into the cosy bed-covers. His eyelids were heavy, the world around him kept swirling about in a very irresponsible manner, but his head was buzzing. He could barely move his head on the pillow, which was taken over by Kyle's long hair. It smelt nice. He shuffled closer to the source. Maybe he should ask what Kyle used on his hair. No, he had another question, didn't he? How could he have forgotten?

"Kyle?" He poked his friend in the back. Kyle didn't move.

"Yeah?"

"Are you asexual?" That got Kyle's attention. He twisted around.

"No. You know that."

"But you don't have sex."

"Go to sleep. We can talk tomorrow." He turned back and began wriggling into his previous position. Stan poked him again.

"It is tomorrow."

"We'll talk after you've slept."

"I want to talk nooooow."

"No." Kyle's voice was light, amused. Stan thought it sounded awesome and was very disappointed that he couldn't persuade it to continue.

"Fine," said Stan, begrudgingly. He wriggled around under the covers before finally breaking the silence again. "I'm hot. I'm taking my clothes off."

"Okay." Stan started pulling his clothing off and flinging it to the floor. He left his boxers on; even now he knew there were some boundaries which would get him kicked out no matter what. He laid down again, but continued being restless.

"What now?" Kyle groaned.

"You're too hot."

"Goddammit, Stan." But Kyle turned, and he was smiling. The smile didn't reach his eyes. "So you want me to strip, too?"

"Yeah."

"Good job we're practically brothers." Stan certainly wasn't imagining Kyle as a brother as he watched him pull his shirt off. In fact, he had lost the family attachment to Kyle about the time he hit puberty, but it was a useful cover for their closeness. Kyle finished removing his clothes and smiled down at Stan over his shirtless shoulder. "Happy now?"

"Very," Stan replied, in all truthfulness. And so the two slept together in a painfully platonic fashion.

The morning was even more painful. Stan awoke to discover his head was being used for a party he wasn't invited to. Thumping drum and bass struck his head in heavy thumps of agony, his tongue was the floor which felt as though half of the attendees had thrown up on it and his throat had some kind of evil chemical spilt on it. Bleach, maybe. He groaned and the pain was exacerbated. He opened his eyes. There was red before him. A lot of red. Was he bleeding? The red moved and there was a face.

"Kyle?" he groaned. Kyle was shirtless. This was good. Why was Kyle shirtless? He wished he could remember. What else was Kyle wearing or not wearing?

"You don't look good."

"You look amazing," Stan mumbled, his eyelids drooping. Kyle laughed awkwardly and climbed out of bed. This should have been bad, but then it provided Stan with the sight of trouser-less Kyle. Very, very good.

"I'm going to get you some water and toast. Be right back." Kyle left the room. Stan used this opportunity to gather his bearings. Like Kyle, he was naked aside from his boxers. Brilliant. He suspected there was a catch. He remembered getting it on with a redhead...Kyle? No. Not Kyle. Then Kyle came...

Kyle returned at that point, carrying the promised water and toast. He set it down in front of Stan, who realised he was really, really thirsty and really hungry. He devoured the food, still running over the previous night's events. Kyle had taken him home... Then he had talked for a bit. About the asexuality. Kyle was not asexual. Okay. So he was near naked because...?

Then he remembered. He groaned again. He wished he hadn't remembered. His alternative scenario was far more exciting.

"You okay?" Kyle asked.

"Yeah." He finished eating. "So, you're not asexual."

"Not remotely. Dude, I told you why I'm worried about dating..." Stan shrugged and leaned back on the bed.

"Just because you're into kinky stuff-"

"It's not just that," said Kyle, his voice very quiet. He had brought his knees up to his chest and was looking out of the window rather than facing Stan. "I...really can't get off on the idea of vanilla. You know, missionary, normal stuff..."

"Not at all?"

"No. Well, yes, but..." Kyle lapsed into silence. Stan poked him in the stomach.

"But what?"

"Only if I was totally them. Otherwise it seems so...boring."

"Oh. So you think you wouldn't be able to date someone and start off on the normal stuff?"

"I don't want to find out."

"Weird, dude."

"You don't need to tell me," Kyle grumbled. "Imagine trying to explain it to someone."

"You explained it to me."

"You're special." Kyle finally looked back to Stan. "You and Dougie..."

"Yeah?"

"Why him?" Stan paused and sought for a reason that wasn't the truth. He bit back from telling Kyle that he had a huge thing for redheads and hey, wasn't Kyle one of those? Maybe they could work something out after a trip to a fetish shop. Kyle was not interested.

"He's all right."

It had started innocently, like a typical schoolday. Stan breezed around, winking and flirting, but by midday something was up. There was tension, stiff in the air. The boys in his class looked grave, like the new hot TV show had been cancelled or Winona Rider was getting married. Stan tried a few subtle questions ("What's up?", "Something the matter?" and, finally, "What the hell is up your ass?") but to no avail. It wasn't until lunchtime, when Butters sprinted down the hall yelling "We've got it, we've got it!", that he came any closer to discovering what "it" was. He followed the surge of his male classmates into the boys' bathroom, where a sheet of paper was stuck up on the wall.

"Oh, no, no, no," said Stan. "Is this another dumb girl list?"

"Not technically! And I'm number five! Whoopee!" Butters cried.

"Woohoo!" Kenny yelled. "I'm number two! Thanks, Stan!" Stan gritted his teeth as Kenny and Butters whooped and danced.

"What the hell have I done?"

"It's a list of which guys you flirt with," Kyle explained, his voice stony. He was the only one not pushing through the throng to discover his ranking. "The girls watch which guys you hit on every day, make a list of the day's findings and then do an average every week to find out who's in." Stan stared at him, his jaw agape.

"That is the fucking stupidest thing I have ever heard." Kyle rolled his eyes and shrugged one shoulder.

"I'm number one!" Token shouted. Stan realised who would not be performing well on the list. He glanced back to Kyle, who had not inched from the bathroom wall. His jaw was set defiantly, waiting. He knew what Stan knew.

"How much did your parents bribe him, pussy?"

"I'll kick your fucking ass, Craig!"

"Bring it!" Token and Craig traded fierce blows and soon fell to the floor in a writhing mass. Stan neatly stepped around them and looked at the list he had accidentally spawned.

"Ha ha! I'm not last!" Cartman shouted. "Stan fancies me more than Kyle!"

And that was what the list seemed to prove. Bottom of the list, every day, was Kyle Broflovski. Stan worked hard to keep his face neutral and looked to see the supposedly rejected boy. He had already left the room.

It was another Friday night and another party, this time at Cartman's house. Now that the boys knew the rules of the game, they were making constant efforts to attract his attention and libido. They left shirts half unbuttoned, bent over so he could admire their chests or asses depending on the position and even began initiating flirting with him. He had never felt so popular, or so plied with alcohol. The only one immune to the new craze was Kyle, who dressed and acted almost as he always did. If anything, he was taking steps to dress with less care and spent less time with Stan, but the change was so minuscule that Stan didn't let it get to him.

The girls were tiring of the boys' efforts to manipulate their system. No new list had been made that day and the week's average score had been postponed until they had found a better way to measure what was going on. Wendy had confided in Stan that it was possible that the method would be scrapped altogether. He wouldn't be sad to see it go.

But tonight he was buoyant and the centre of attention. Tonight he could do no wrong. Even when he said that Token's shirt looked like something Kenny would wear, he hadn't been hit. Cartman brought him drinks and talked about possibilities of a position in his future world order. Tweek asked if he'd mind modelling for a picture. He had guys floating about him, one under each arm, a frequent rotation that kept him more than just amused. He had been kissed by almost every boy in the party, he had taken what felt like hundreds of tongues into his mouth, and was sure he had encapsulated a lifetime of ass-grabbing into an hour, maybe? Possibly two? What was time, anyway? Pip poured another drink into his mouth.

Next he and Clyde were on the floor, grinding and kissing and grinding and groping and kissing and Stan was pretty sure this was the best night ever. There were hands under his shirt, massaging his back, and he had no idea who they belonged to. Then someone yelled his name and there was Kenny, shirtless, holding a bottle of some kind of liquid. He was grinning and what were body shots, anyway?

He decided he liked body shots as he licked the cream liquor from Kenny's stomach. He announced this fact to the room. Suddenly, the room was full of shirtless guys pouring alcohol on themselves. The girls seemed happy, which kept the boys happy, which kept Stan happy. He licked away.

But he was not happy, he realised. This was really kind of lame. These guys didn't mean anything to him, or at least, not anything in the way that he wanted them to be something and that sucked. And he didn't mean anything to them or at least, in the same fashion. And whilst it was fun and fun was good, it wasn't lasting. It was hollow. He swatted a couple of girls to the side and pulled Kenny into a corner.

"I's no fun anymore," he said, his weight all hanging off Kenny's shoulder.

"What're you talkin' abo'?" Kenny asked. "'s awesome party. Le'ss make-out some more."

"No," Stan whined. He stamped his foot and his glass fell to the floor. "I dun wanna."

"Why?"

"'Cause I've lear'ed somethin' today. Ph-physsik-physissikal intraction is...is really kinda lame when i's just for...i's not..." Stan's grip on Kenny failed him and he fell to the floor. "I want Kyyyyyle. Where's Kyyyyyle?"

"Over there." Kenny waved a hand about unsteadily. "Wi' that guy. 'N' that girl."

Stan scrambled to his feet and tried to follow Kenny's directions. He forced his way through crowds that tried to catch his attention and scoured the far corner until he spotted his best friend. As Kenny had said, Kyle was there, with some guy and some girl draped under both arms. Somehow, Kyle was managing to look detached from everything whilst the centre of attention. Both of his companions were plying him for a return in affection, but Kyle's eyes only lit up when they locked with Stan's.

"Kyle!" Stan cried and collapsed onto him.

"Fuck off, you two," said Kyle. Stan missed the scandalised looks that Kyle received, but then, so did Kyle, who was lifting Stan's head up. "Wassa matter?"

"I don' like this," said Stan, still clutching Kyle. Kyle managed to ease them both into a sitting position on the floor, cradling Stan in his arms.

"You wanna go home?"

"No." Stan glared at the two people who had been with Kyle. Why had they been chosen? Had they advertised in some unknown South Park S&M mag? He could do that, too, if he needed to. What were a few hundred thousand pervy emails if he got to fuck Kyle?

"Why don' you like it? You have all the boys you could want."

"They suck." Kyle looked at him with disbelief.

"You don' like any of the boys here?"

"I don' like any of them."

"Why?"

"They suck."

"Why do they suck?"

"'Cause they're all giant douches." The giant douches were doing nothing to defend against this reputation. Clyde had just busted Token's lip and Craig was yelling all the foul epithets under the sun at someone Stan couldn't identify. Maybe he was yelling them at the room. Tweek had curled up in a corner with a cup of coffee, rocking gently.

"Why're they all douches?"

"'Cause they suck." Kenny was certainly sucking face. He had the biggest group of girls surrounding him that Stan had ever seen.

"Stan, that's a cylic-cyclick- i's an argument that goes around and around and around."

"What were you doin' with those people before?"

"Making out." Stan directed his glower up at Kyle, although he felt tears stinging at his eyes. He was acting like a girl. And not a cool girl, like Wendy, but a lame girl, like that girl Kyle had been kissing. So why didn't Kyle kiss him?

"Why them?" he asked, trying to speak calmly despite the pressure in his throat. He swallowed, trying to be as subtle as possible.

"Why not?"

"They're douches!" Kyle laughed and ruffled Stan's hair. "I mean it! They're the douchiest douches to ever douche!" Pip had climbed onto a table, announced that he was going to sing the most moving song in the history of mankind, and began to sing the English national anthem. Only six lines in, someone chucked a bottle at him.

"Is anyone here not a douche?" Pip was only six lines in when someone chucked a bottle at him. He dodged it, but fell off the table in the process. He was quickly replaced by Butters. It wasn't a vast improvement.

"You're not!" Kyle smiled and kissed Stan's head. It was sweet and made Stan happier than anything he had done with any of those douches, but simultaneously chaste and horrible and nauseating because it was so passionless, so familial. Stan's smile formed just a second before the first tear fell down his face. He wiped it away angrily.

"Stan?" Kyle pushed Stan's hair from his face. "You sure you don't want to go home?"

"Why did you hook up with them? Why not me?" Stan demanded. Kyle's brow furrowed slightly.

"The same reason you kiss everyone else in the room rather than me," he hesitantly replied. A testament to the flaws in Stan's supposed taste in men had shoved Butters off the table and began singing "Come Sail Away". Stan and Kyle couldn't see it, but they wouldn't have been surprised to know that said table was only a few verses from falling away.

"That makes no sense!" Kyle shook his head.

"Because we're like brothers," he said, voice gentle. Stan punched the wall behind them.

"We're not! I want to fuck you senseless!" Kyle stared, dumbfounded, at Stan. His mouth opened and closed like a goldfish's.

"What?" he finally managed.

"I want to fuck you! And I have done for years!"

"Dude, you're wasted." Stan slumped on Kyle's chest. He hadn't the energy to keep protesting. Having an emotionless tryst with one of the others before they discovered that the game was over suddenly seemed vaguely appealing. At least then he'd finally understand where he stood.

"I knew you weren't interested in me," he mumbled. "But why not?"

"Stan, you are drunk. Tomorrow, you'll really regret this."

"Tomorrow I'll wonder why you don't wanna bone me!" Kyle sighed and lifted Stan's face up.

"I do. You're the one who obviously isn't interested."

"I am so!" said Stan, the energy returning to him in a flash. He clutched at Kyle's shirt. "I'm more than interested! I'm, uh, really interested!"

"No, you're drunk." Kyle smiled wanly down at Stan. "Can I drag you home yet?" There was a crash and a lot of shouting. The table had given in.

"No."

"So what do you want to do?"

"Suck you off." Kyle winced.

"You are drunk. Please stop teasing me."

"But it's what I want!"

"Goddammit. Stan, I-" Stan pushed his lips against Kyle's. Kyle's remained firm, resisting, for only a few moments before reciprocating. Kyle was the sober one (or at least, the comparatively sober one) and even he wasn't sure how they ended up lying down, Stan stroking his chest underneath his shirt. For Stan, it was everything that all he had needed and lacked with the others. That had been cheap thrills. This was...this was worth not analysing and instead just relishing. His hands headed southwards. Stan's fingers met border control at Kyle's waistband.

"Stan, no," he said, pulling Stan's hands away. Stan resisted.

"Like you don't want to get off right here, right now," he whispered. He smirked, watching the inner turmoil play over Kyle's face.

"It'll be a miracle if we're not caught," Kyle argued, but his heart wasn't in his words.

"Which is why you want it so bad."

Kyle bit his lip and wrenched Stan's hands away. "You're drunk. I'd be taking advantage of you."

"I'm sobering up."

"Dude...why the attitude change?"

"Do you want to ask that or do you want me to jerk you off?" Kyle released Stan's hands.

"You can explain later." Stan unfastened Kyle's trousers and took hold of him. He pumped, his heart racing even faster than his hand, half expecting a cry of disgust to rip through the air at any second. Kyle dragged him down, his nails digging into Stan's arm, and kissed him ferociously. The kiss was harsh and hungry and heavenly. Stan retracted his sticky hand, but Kyle took hold of it and sucked each finger in turn.

"You're coming back to mine," Kyle said firmly.

"Is that an order?"

"Depends. Do you want me to blow you here or in private?"

"I'll go back to yours."

Neither was capable of moving the morning after, and not for the reasons they might have hoped for. They laid on Kyle's bed, flickering between too hot and kicking the sheets away, to freezing and tugging the same sheets back and forth. They created their own soundtrack of pained grunts.

"Why did I have to drink so much?" Stan asked, clutching his head. "And why don't you keep aspirin and water next to your bed? You're ill often enough."

"Maybe next time I'm ill you should bring me some, then."

"Ugh. I don't think I'll be able to. I'm going to die."

"You probably will. You licked Kenny's stomach. Can I have your TV?"

"Dude, you have your own."

"Yours is bigger." In spite of himself, Stan smirked.

"We can compare." Kyle just groaned and feebly jabbed Stan.

"You never explained last night." Stan turned to gape at Kyle, but the infernal sun had crept in through the window at that side and burned his eyes. Instead, he squinted ineffectually at him.

"Is now really the time?"

"It's not like we can do much else."

"I figured if I came onto you, I'd not let go. And raping your best friend is kind of frowned upon." Kyle laughed. "Anyway, you didn't make a move on me."

"Dude, you kept saying I was like a brother-"

"Only so you wouldn't realise I wanted to pound your ass!" Kyle winced at the volume. Stan lowered his voice. "Sorry."

"- and since you never mentioned how hot you found incest, I guessed you weren't into me. And kissing Cartman instead of me kind of left me with the impression that you didn't see me that way." Stan began to shake his head, but it felt as though he was tearing his brain apart and he quickly stopped.

"We suck," he grumbled. This was Kyle's turn to grin evilly.

"Shame we can't right now."

"We do have the rest of the weekend free." They grinned. Kyle yawned and put an arm around Stan.

"We'd better rest. We have a lot of wasted time to make up."


End file.
